Quiet confidence. Walking through the halls absorbed in her own thoughts. Intuitive. A close friend walks by and she reads the turmoil in their eyes. Hard to approach. Something about her seems so preoccupied all the time. Her inner strength is obvious to everyone but herself.
She scans the crowd with a solemn look on her face. Searching the many faces, taking note of the obvious stories written across them. Looking for a friend, strength in numbers. Her friend's support has a irreplaceable role in her overly cluttered life.
A t-shirt and jeans. Her trademark dress. Dressing always ready for a game of pick-up. She walks with long, slow strides like she's walking through water. Her feet seem to hold her back. No makeup. She has no one to impress. Hair up and out of her face. Always easier to think. Blending in to the crowd of people, she quietly resumes her everyday routine.
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